You do count
by Lenny221B
Summary: Even the biggest loner needs somebody to listen. Sherlock needs to slow down his mind so he writes a letter. Some light spoilers for season 2 and 3.


**Hi everyone, just a short oneshot that started to form in my head after having seen the video of Benedict and Loo reading the letters at the Hay Festival. Please ignore (or point out ) any grammar mistake you find as English isn't my mother tongue. Thank you for reading. Lenny**

1 year, 215 days, 6 hours and 10 minutes from the moment he had to walk away. He's always been a loner. Alone is what he has, alone protects him. At least he thought so. But when he heard John saying "don't be dead," something in him changed. When he heard Molly saying "what do you need," something in him changed. Does he really have friends? People who care about him, people who love him no matter what he says or does? He doesn't need friends. Or does he?

1 year, 215 days, 6 hours and 11 minutes from the moment he had to walk away. Sherlock is sitting on the cold floor somewhere in Romania. So many things going through his head…he wants them to stop. He doesn't want to think. He just wants to sleep for a while and then continue destroying Moriarty's network. But…

1 year, 215 days, 6 hours and 12 minutes. He takes a piece of paper and decides to write…Maybe it'll help to slow down his mind…

…

It only took one look at the knocker to know that his brother was there. When he enters his flat and sees the people looking through his things, he immediately becomes furious. Lucky for them he's still high and his mind doesn't work so incredibly fast as always. He decides to ignore them and climbs into the chair.

"Check the skull and then we're done here," Mycroft says, turning to Anderson. When Sherlock hears the word skull, he stiffens. In that moment, John realises that something is really wrong. He doesn't wait any seconds and decides to act.

"I checked it earlier, there's no need to do it again," he tells Anderson, who was already reaching for the skull to check it.

Mycroft suspiciously raises his eyebrow, because he can feel that John's not telling the true. But he secretly knows that even though he and Sherlock are best friends, John would never let drugs destroy Sherlock's life.

"I hope you know what you're doing, doctor Watson," Mycroft whispers coldly to John.

"Don't worry, Mycroft. I'll personally ensure that you're brother occupies his mind with cases, not drugs."

Mycroft smirks and leaves the room without another word.

"What was that about, Sherlock?" John asks as soon as they're alone in the room. "Do you seriously keep the drugs in the skull?"

"Don't be absurd John, of course I don't," he answers and starts to walk towards the bathroom. Before he enters the bathroom, he looks back to John. "Don't even try to look inside." And with that he disappears behind the door.

…

When John is gone, Sherlock lies down on the couch and starts going through his mind palace. So many things have happened during the last few weeks that he has to organise, but how can he do that when he always ends up entering one particular room with one particular person inside. John, Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, The Woman...They all have their special place in his mind palace, but he doesn't feel the need to go there without any reason. So what is so special about this room? Since he came back to London, he's been there quite a lot and it worries him.

"I don't count," he hears her saying over and over again. And every time he hears it, it sends shivers to his spine.

"You do count, you've always counted and you always will," he says to himself, with eyes still closed.

Suddenly there's a knock on the door. "Come in," he shouts at the door.

When the door opens, he can smell the familiar scent. "Molly," he says without opening his eyes.

"How do you know…oh, never mind," she utters with resignation.

Sherlock sits up and looks at her. "What do you need?" he asks. When he says this sentence out loud, it brings back all the memories.

"I…ehm…you know..." Molly struggles with expressing herself properly. "I actually came here to apologise."

Sherlock is quite taken aback by this statement, but tries not to make it visible to Molly. "What for?" he simply asks.

"Well, for slapping you three times… I was so pissed off with you, but it doesn't give me right to slap you…," she stars to mumble.

"Molly, it's all right. You weren't wearing the ring, so it wasn't so bad, right?" he smiles at her, but she doesn't return his smile. Instead, he can see her eyes watering slowly. "Molly, I didn't mean…"

"No, Sherlock, I'm sorry. I'm quite a mess these days. I just wanted to apologise for the slapping part and now that I have, I'm going home. Sorry again," she sobs and stands up, ready to leave.

"Why did you break up? You seemed quite happy with him," Sherlock asks suddenly.

"I was happy, but apparently, I have the habit of destroying my own happiness. Everything I say and everything I do seems to end badly. I'm…I'm just tired of this, you know," she smiled sadly.

"You haven't answered my question," Sherlock states persistently.

"When you wake up in the morning and the person who is lying next to you isn't the person you want to be lying next to you…simple thing, really. The good old Molly Hooper. I think that if I just disappeared today, no one would notice…," she mutters and goes towards the door.

"You are wrong, you know," Sherlock says.

Molly turns to him, quite taken aback by his words.

"Not everything you say or do ends badly. You've saved my life, Molly. Don't ever forget that," he continues.

"I didn't save your life, Sherlock. I only helped you to save the lives of your friends."

"Always underestimating yourself," he smiles. He stands up and starts to walk towards the fireplace ledge, where his skull lies. He opens it and pulls out an envelope. He hands it to her and when she looks at it, she can't believe her eyes. On the envelope, there are five letters that form her name. MOLLY. She looks up to Sherlock, quite confused.

"Go home, take it with you and when you'll have the feeling that you don't count again, read it," Sherlock says as he opens the door for her. She doesn't ask anything else and leaves.

On her way home, she wants badly to read what is inside the envelope, but decides not to. She remembers Sherlock's words and puts the envelope inside her bag. There'll be time, when I'll need it more than now, she thinks to herself.

A few weeks later, Molly sits on her couch and turn on the TV. All the channels show the same thing. _Charles Augustus Magnussen found dead_. She immediately picks up her mobile phone and writes a text.

_What's going on with Magnussen? Are you all right? Molly_

After a few moments, she gets a reply.

_Miss Hooper, as I see, my brother hasn't informed you about his situation. Given the circumstances, he is now on his way to Eastern Europe. MH_

When she reads the text, she can't believe her eyes. Eastern Europe?

_For how long?_ _Molly_

_Six months. MH_

Six months and he leaves without saying a word. She feels the tears forming in her eyes as she looks again and again on the last text… So, it seems that she doesn't count after all. In that moment, her sight rests on the table where she put the envelope Sherlock gave her. _When you'll have the feeling that you don't count again, read it_, she remembers his words. She takes the envelope and slowly opens it, her fingers trembling violently. As she pulls out the piece of paper, she immediately recognises Sherlock's handwriting. But something is different. Usually, his handwriting is neat. But this…this is different. It looks like it was written in a hurry, with his hand shaking a lot as he was writing it. After her initial observations, she starts to read.

_Dear Molly,_

_it's been 1 year, 215 days, 6 hours, 12 minutes since I had to walk away. Since I had to leave London in order to save people that are close to me. But without your help, I wouldn't have been able to do it. You made it all possible and now, as I'm sitting on the cold ground, trying to overcome hunger and pain from all injuries I've suffered…now I'm finally realising how important you were. And how important you still are. _

_When I came to Barts to ask you for help, you didn't think about it for one second. That night, I saw everything in your eyes. Fear, determination and something else. I believe that it was what people call love. You know that I avoid saying words like love and that I despise sentiment. But as I saw you that night, I came to the conclusion that sentiment didn't necessarily mean a disadvantage. Without your feelings for me, you wouldn't have been able to find the courage to do all the things you ended up doing. And it was in that moment when I became aware of the fact that I planned to do all the things for the same reason. Sentiment. _

_You opened my eyes back then and you made it all possible. I know that many people think that I had treated you like dirt before and it's probably truth. I may have tried to manipulate you a few times, to take advantage of your love for me…But I've always respected you and I've never taken you for granted. _

_Even though it may not seem that way, to me you're one of the most important people in my life. In the world full of goldfish, you're the one who can follow my explications, my observations and who can see right through me. It scares me a lot. When you told me I looked sad when I thought John couldn't see me, you were right. If you were here with me now, you would probably say something similar. But now, I'm sad not only for being away from John and Baker Street, but also for being away from you. From the person that counts even though she doesn't realise it. _

_Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. Or is it?_

_Sherlock_

By the time she reached the end of the letter, she was crying heavily. She does count after all, she thought to herself and a sad smile appeared on her face.


End file.
